Time Out
by penmom
Summary: A Spuffy story. Buffy is dying and after years apart Spike is coming to pay his respects but his demon has other ideas.
1. Chapter 1

Time Out

By Penmom

Author's Notes: (1) This will be quick given my schedule! ENJOY.

**Boston - 2010**

He'd tried to stay away. He really had. Honest to God, in case he was listening. But now he couldn't. He'd had time since the big bang in Sunnydale to think about things, to think about her. Too much damn time. He thought he'd just about had it licked – this obsession with Buffy.

No, No, No, he thought to himself. You are not some psycho starker. He loved her – always had - with all his heart and his soul. Loved her enough to stay away.

But now, he was going to her. As soon as Angel had called him, there had been no question. Thank God for bloody cell phones. There had been a time not too long ago when Angel would have had to summon him through some sort of magical means and lets' face it – not so much with the reliability.

Instead, he had heard mere minutes after Angel had spoken with Willow. Angel was sending a plane. He'd be there by morning.

**London - 2010**

The damp gray mist that was London seemed to settle over everything in sight. Being inside wasn't much better. You felt cold even under layers of blankets. Still, maybe it was easier to die on a day like this. You could sort of just fade away into the fog. Yeah, she thought. A bright, sunny California day wouldn't help matters. It would just remind you of what you were going to be missing. The people that came to your funeral would be sitting there counting the minutes until they could get back outside and enjoy the day. Maybe take a ride with the top down.

A London funeral would definitely be more in keeping with the missing the dearly departed milieu. Everybody would go home and bundle up, feeling a little dead-like themselves. Not that she wished anybody ill – no, but it would be nice if everybody could be sad for like a minute or two.

Sad – now there was a concept she'd thought about. It seemed like she'd been sad for awhile. Every loss, every trauma, every apocalypse had been like a little cut on her soul. And now, it was enough. It was too much. Time out for Buffy.

She'd died before after all. She remembered the afternoon when she'd spoken to Spike out in back of the Magic Shop divulging her secret. She remembered saying how safe and warm she'd felt. Her loss had been palatable. Over time her memory of that place had dimmed considerably but now she found herself remembering that feeling, that place, readying herself for what was to come.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Time Out  
**  
By Penmom

Author's Notes: (1) ENJOY.

Chapter Two

**Gatwick / London**

Looking out the polarized glass of the jet's window, he could see that walking about in daylight was not going to be a problem. No wonder there were always so many damn vamps in England, they could bloody well take a holiday at the Roman Baths without so much as sunscreen. His tolerance to the sun had increased seen the big who-ha in Sunnydale but he still couldn't manage broad daylight in California.

Now - Boston in the winter - he was all over it. Probably why he was there. Teaching at BU during the day, takin' care of the odd nasty at night. Wasn't bad at all --- not great, not wonderful but not bad.

He owed Angel a big one for getting his papers in order so he could teach. It was probably what saved him. The routine, the day in, the day out, the contact with normal folk - it was a balm - or maybe a tranquilizer - for his soul. Didn't stop him from prowling around at night but made it so he could really have a place, a name. - William Shepherd Knot, Ph.D., professor of English Literature, Boston University. Most of his colleagues called him "Bill" - how bloody American.

If anyone had told him ten years ago that the Big Bad would evolve into ol' Bill Knot in the Classics Department, he would have proclaimed them daft. Believing more in Bill and less in Spike had probably been the buffer - oh what a choice for a word! - to keep him away from Buffy.

They'd seen each other twice since the big boom. Had each other's bloomin' email addresses, last year she'd sent him a bloody Christmas card but by mutual non-verbal fear or consent or whatever --- they generally treated each other like two blokes that worked together once upon a time.

She had to know that he would find out as soon as Angel knew and surely she knew that Willow would call the states. He shook his head as if to clear it. Listen to you, tryin' to convince yourself that she wants you here --- now. Did she call you? Did she email you? Did she write you?

No, but if he sat still and listened if could feel her pull as if she were the moon and he the tide.

Well, the tide was comin' in.

**St. Anne's Hospice/ London**

She rolls the ice chips around in her mouth. The medicine makes her mouth so dry. She closes her eyes and thinks of him. In the end, the only thing in her life that she has truly neglected. Her only loose end. Who was she kidding? --- Her only huge black hole.

Mrs. Brown, the little day nurse, pops in drawing her out of her own head. "Ms. Summers, there's a gentleman for you on the phone, all the way from America. You up to takin' it?"

Her heart speeds for the first time in weeks. She had thought that dread had replaced anticipation all around. Guess not.

She picks up the receiver by the bed, bracing herself to sound strong and happy.

"Hello?"

"Buffy. Oh Thank God. Well, I mean, I wanted to talk to you. As soon as, we heard I mean. Sam and I, well, we just think so much of you. If there's anything we can do."

Riley Finn --- her heart sinks a little. It is nice of him to call really but as he continues her mind wanders to another.

TBC

12/19/2005


	3. Chapter 3

**Time Out  
**  
By Penmom

Author's Notes: (1) ENJOY. (2) Feedback would make for a lovely Christmas.

Chapter Three

**London**

Since the moment he set foot in Britain, the insistent throb in his brain continually worsened. Maybe it was the stress of it all? Maybe it was the sun after all? The feeling was starting to really wear on him. Wear on him to the extent that all of little, unconscious things that he did to control his demon were beginning to review more attention than they had in years - certainly the most effort since the big boom, even since the soul.

Any maybe. Just maybe it was Buffy. Maybe Buffy was causing this disturbance in the Force so to speak. He kind of hoped that she was the cause of it all. If she can bring this on fifteen kilometers out, she can't be as bad off as they said.

He leaned back in his cab and enjoyed the migraine. He could use the tempo of the throbbing to measure the distance to her side.

When the cab turned off the roundabout toward St. Anne's, he actually slipped into game face - just for a moment or two but still…for those moments, the headache let up and in its face, he was a predator. A predator in a way he hadn't been in forever. He could hear everything so clearly --- every beat of the cabbie's heart. He was poised to take the old guy just as a weak ray of sunshine hit him directly in the face.

Roused by a proverbial glass of cold water to the face, Bill Knot climbed up to consciousness and pulled back a very agitated demon.

The car stopped. " 'Ar you go, Sir" the man stated merrily as if he had done something truly spectacular by navigating the roads of London. Little did the guy know that he had truly accomplished a noble feat - he had escaped William the Bloody.

**Suite C/St. Anne's Hospice/ London**

Her spidy sense is wiggy. She knows the moment he arrives. She can feel it in her bones. Thank God, Giles had left an hour ago. It will be good to do this alone - romantic and tragic. With an audience, it would have been another punch bowl conversation full of pleasantries and not much more.

She smiles at what Mrs. Brown will say when she sees him. Mrs. Brown who swoons at the sight of Giles. She may soon be taking up the empty suite beside of Buffy after she sees Spike.

TBC

12/19/2005


	4. Chapter 4

**Time Out  
**  
By Penmom

Author's Notes: (1) This will be it until after Christmas. (2) I've tried to may this a little longer.

Chapter Four

**St. Anne's Hospice/ London**

Ms. Jilly Newcastle was sitting in the front room doing the crossword. She volunteered on Tuesdays and Thursdays right like clockwork. The front door opened and as soon as she set eyes on him she knew who'd he'd come to see. It was a little game she played with herself. When someone new came in she tried to guess who they belonged to - ol' Mr. Vaughn in Suite A, Mrs. Appleton - in D or - could it be - Ms. Buffy in C. O'course it was Ms. Buffy. Another fine lookin' man, couldn't be any other patient. She must have had 'em lined up in her day, that one.

Though this one, now slammin' the door, rushin' round looking for where to go, --- and, no flowers or whatnots to be seen - he didn't hold a candle to that Mr. Harris. Now that was a gentleman a lady would be proud of! Always combed an' pressed, always bringing something or another, he was a catch. Jilly felt right sad when she spied that ring on his finger. He'd have been a prize for her Christine, that's for sure. Why one day, he even fixed the ----

"Buffy, Buffy Summers. I need to see her immediately." The man's voice broke her out of her thoughts. What a rude one, this one.

"Now just wait a wee moment, sir. Can't have you upsettin' our residents, tis' a policy."

He looks her square in the face. He don't say a word but there's somethin' 'bout his eyes…

When Jilly speaks again, she is more than helpful. This is an important visitor for Ms. Buffy. He needs to go to her now without a delay and there cannot be any interruptions. She understands.

Spike shakes his head. He must not be as far-gone as he first thought, askin' this ol' bird for directions when he can full well just follow his nose straight to Buffy. Still, this one would be causin' trouble if he didn't take care of her. Suddenly, his baser urges rear up - just kill the ol' bird and that'll take care of it. Thank God, he had a soul rattlin' in there too or she'd be dead for sure.

As is, he opts to use one of Drac's ol' tricks - not a biggie in his repertoire but whatever fits the bill...

**Suite C**

Oh God, he's here. He's coming.

How come she feels like this? She can't put her finger on exactly how she feels but … OK, Buff, but with a capital B this time. But it's anticipation, it's lust, it's energy, it's something a basic as air. Why is she got that oh no feeling vibe too. Hey, she's dying here, anybody remember?

For a second, she wishes that she had a bunch of sophisticated monitors all plugged up like on ER or something so some nurse could come rushing dramatically into the room. At least she'd have some verification that there was something going on physically. Alas, no go - St. Anne's was all about a peaceful - God, what word did the brochure use? - oh yeah, organic - an organic death - whatever the hell that was. It sounded good at the time, she remembers that.

But - OK, back with the Buts - acknowledging the plural here this time. But that was when she was ready, when she had convinced herself that it was all good, that she'd had a good run and it was fine to step aside.

But now --- But now --- she's bracing herself to admit it --- that she isn't ready not by a long shot. No whatever this is - this feeling, this hum --- she wants it. She wants it with all the conviction that a mature woman of thirty can want something. Whatever this is, it isn't a fairy tale and it isn't black and white. But this time she isn't going to deny it. There's no time left for denial. There's no time left at all.

She struggles to get up, to at least sit up more and look like one of those dying heroines in the movies - all pale and lovely. Unfortunately, she knows it's too late for that and anyway she just decided this wasn't a fairy tale. Her skin is dry and her hair is thin from the medication. All she can do is deliver herself up to whatever incarnation of Spike walks through that door.

The door opens so fast that it bangs into the wall. The crash reverberates through her as she takes in the sight in front of her.

It is definitely Spike come to claim her. Part of her sighs in relief. There had been a fear in the back of her head that all this --- this adrenaline rush was simply her imagination. In her mind's eye, she could visualize Spike in his professor suit coming in only after knocking. Thank God, he had not come knocking. A Spike that would knock would most likely be a Spike that would let her die. A Spike that would grieve fiercely but not have the ill manners to challenge the fates.

No, the Spike in front of her was the Spike who was a fool for love.

TBC


End file.
